All I Ask of You
by Millenya
Summary: Added scene to "The Phantom of the Opera" just before "All I Ask of You" in the musical.


"All I Ask of You"  
  
Author's Note: I have never read the book, nor seen the play...or any movie except one TV Miniseries, many many years ago. I BARELY remember it. I know the crude and ugly version of the story and I was day dreaming one day while listening to "All I Ask of You" and this came to mind. I merged two songs at the end, so, yeah...remember, this was just for fun.  
  
"No!" Christine screamed as she shot up in bed. With her nightgown clung to her clammy skin the woman panted. Adrenalin rushed through her veins from the dream.  
  
She had to see him.  
  
She had to see if her dream was not prophetic.  
  
Uncaring of the hour in the dark night, the woman ran from her quarters in the Opera House down...down into the below...into his home. Her frantic cries echoed in the tunnels, calling his name, "Erik!" Still in shock from the dream Christine did not know the way to his room. "Please, answer me!"  
  
In the dark gloom the woman's blonde hair glowed like the moon in the night sky. Over her raging pulse, she couldn't hear anything. On her skin she felt a cool breeze which only worsened her fear. "Erik?!?!"  
  
Finally, she made her way to his room, but she was afraid to open the door. She froze. Her wheezing breaths crashed into the wood. Slowly, her hand traced down the door for the knob...down...down...there! Palm encasing the handle she turned it. *Click...click...click-clank* With all her strength she heaved the object open. Through her tear glazed eyes she saw his back. His arms were behind his head fingering a black cloth, a ribbon, which absorbed the light from the candles lit in his quarters.  
  
He turned and half of a white mask covered his face, concealing his eyes and forehead. At first glance he appeared demonic with the mask but he would never harm his love, his angel of music. "Christine." His voice was soft, concerned.  
  
"You're alive!" She ran to him and hugged him with her chin resting on his right shoulder. As she could not hold them back her tears dampened his night shirt. "You're alright," she whispered, squeezing tight as if he would float away.  
  
Erik rubbed her back. "Of course I'm alright," he closed his brown eyes and sighed, "why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"I had a dream," she whimpered.  
  
Christine's heart threatened to burst through her chest as she thought of her nightmare. Erik felt this. He held her tighter. "It's alright," he whispered into her ear, "it was a dream."  
  
"But it was so real." She looked up into his eyes-gentle and soft. "You died!" She said the words so quiet she almost mouthed them.  
  
Surprised, Erik loosened his hold on her. "What?"  
  
"They killed you," she whimpered looking away.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Everyone."  
  
He tilted his head and persisted, "Who?"  
  
She let go and turned away . "Everyone who knows you as the Phantom," she paused. "They called you the Phantom of Fear, not the Opera."  
  
Erik was silent as she wept.  
  
"I tried to stop it, but I couldn't do anything, and then they...they..." her voice wouldn't let her go on. She turned and held him in her arms. "They stoned you to death."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She looked up at his mask. "Because of your face." A tight squeezing feeling extended through her throat. "They felt that you shouldn't be able to live because of your appearance."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her. "That is why I wear the mask." He sighed. "Even you were frightened when you saw me."  
  
Christine lowered her head. "Only for a moment."  
  
"But still..."  
  
There was a long silence for neither the man nor the woman could continue with the subject. But both of them wanted to say something about it, but just...couldn't. Then finally, Christine pulled the bow holding his mask, untying it. The right side lowered, then the left, and the woman placed the mask on his desk next to them.  
  
Shamed by his hideous self, Erik turned away from his love. He could not bear to look at her scared eyes again.  
  
Christine sighed. "Turn around," she whispered, "please."  
  
Voice deep and stern he answered, "No."  
  
"Please," she pleaded.  
  
"No."  
  
The woman moved to stand in front of him. Erik averted his eyes as if he were blinded by her beauty. But Christine placed her delicate hand on his chin and forced him to look at her. The lower half of his face was considered normal with a square jaw, thin lips, and slightly hollowed cheeks. But from the bridge of his nose up he was something different. It looked as though he were half animal-half beast. There was thick black hair, almost fur, on his cheek bones and thin hair on his forehead. Through the hair on his forehead Christine could see patches of scars-ill memories which haunted him of when he tried different ways to rid of his "fur" when he was a child. His eyes, shadowed from under a uni-brow, were the only things that appeared human.  
  
The woman caressed the monster's cheek. "I love you," she smiled, "and I don't want anything to happen to you."  
  
The monster was lost for words. He could not speak for he was still absorbing what she said: she loved him. He loved her more then anything he could ever posses and to hear her say that with her looking at his true face made his eyes water from joy...She loved him.  
  
Through the night Christine slept lying next to him on his bed. After awhile Erik drifted off into a peaceful sleep.  
  
But they were not alone.  
  
A silhouette, a figure lurked towards the bed. Crouched over with its left hand extended and right behind its back it eyed the Phantom with anger. It stepped in the light. It was a man. It was Raoul. He too loved Christine. "She's mine," he growled and raised his right hand. A dagger was clutched in his fist. "You cannot have her, Beast," he added grinding his teeth. He looked like a mad man, insane with jealousy. When the shadow of the dagger covered Erik's face Raoul glared at his throat. With all his rage he struck the target and killed him instantly.  
  
* * *  
  
In a cold sweat, Erik awoke. It was a dream. He sighed. 'Just a dream,' he thought to calm his nerves. When he came to his senses he realized he was sitting at his desk. He had fallen asleep writing his opera.  
  
"Say you need me with you, now and always," Erik heard his angel's singing echo into his home, "promise me that all you say is true..."  
  
'Christine,' Erik instinctively rose from his seat. Where was she? He rushed to where he believed the echo originated.  
  
The voice changed. "Let me be your shelter, let me be your light." It was Raoul. "You're safe: no one will find you-your fears are far behind you..."  
  
'What?!' Erik froze. The word "fears" was branded into his mind and he remembered her face when she saw him. His eyes widened from under the mask.  
  
"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night..." Christine added.  
  
Erik found them, looking up through a metal grate that was by Raoul.  
  
"...and you always beside me, to hold me and to hide me..."  
  
The Phantom was outraged. 'Insolent boy!' he thought, wanting to scream it. 'This slave of fashion, basking in your glory.' He looked at Christine, then back at Raoul. 'Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!' The shadows of the grate made Erik look like a prisoner. He felt like one.  
  
They left, but they continued to sing to each other-expressing their love- and the Phantom's rage went to sadness. "I gave you my music," he grabbed the bars, "made your song take wing and now how you've repaid me: denied me and betrayed me." His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. "He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing." He let go and his whole body sagged. "Christine," he sighed almost in a whimper, "Christine..."  
  
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." They continued to torture the Phantom. "Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning..."  
  
"You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!" Erik yelled. He wanted his heart to stop. She loved it in return.  
  
He punched the wall. "It was just a dream," he whispered, "she could never love a monster." 


End file.
